


schrodinger, snow, and mother's soup.

by wookiees



Category: South Park
Genre: Hurt, Loss of Parent(s), Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3404372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookiees/pseuds/wookiees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde hates it when people treat him like a wounded animal, he hates being hungry and he hates open caskets but he likes the snow, and his mother's cooking and paradoxes. Not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	schrodinger, snow, and mother's soup.

Open caskets were morbid. Closed caskets were a lot like Schrodinger’s Cat. The object inside could be dead or alive and we’d have no way of knowing, therefore one must assume that the object inside is neither dead nor alive. However, since the Donovan’s came from a long line of Dutch and devout Catholics, when Betsy Donovan passed on she was placed inside her coffin with the lid left open.

Clyde didn’t understand the tradition or point behind it. Honestly, the last thing he wanted to see was his mother’s blank, lifeless face staring up at him when he went to say his final goodbyes. Maybe because saying it to her face would make it seem more real, where as saying it to a wooden box was a little more open ended.

So, when the mourners were asked to walk past the casket one-by-one, Clyde asked his father if he could step outside. Roger Donovan, who’d been treating his son like a wounded animal ever since the day his wife died, granted Clyde the permission to leave and watched him exit the church with a sullen look on his face before turning back to accept condolences from nearly everyone in town.

Outside it was snowing. The thing about South Park is that it was located in the bowl between two of Colorado’s largest mountains. Geographically speaking, this meant that the cold fronts and snow clouds from both mountains met above the little town, making it so that six out of twelve months were cold and snowy. Clyde didn’t so much mind the snow, in fact right about now he was thankful for it seeing as how for the past week he’d felt nothing but an acute numbness all over his body.

His brain was filled with static and everything went by in a blur but standing out in the cold in nothing but his funeral tux, letting the frosty wind brush against his skin and prick him like needles made him feel at least a little bit alive. Clyde walked out into the courtyard, past the Virgin Mary statue that the town’s people had claimed cried blood last Christmas and sat himself down on a bench.

His black Oxfords sunk into the snow and his black socks became wet but he didn’t mind, the was the first time all week he’d been alone with his own thoughts for more than a minute. Since the news broke that his mother had died, neighbors, relatives and even people Clyde had never spoken to a day in his life were asking him how he was feeling without giving him the chance to process his emotions in the first place.

Now, Clyde was kind of able to wrap his head around how he felt and mostly it was sick. The past week he’d woken up feeling like he was going to hurl and because of this is normal appetite was nonexistent so he couldn’t even comfort himself with food like he normally did and this was only made worse by the fact that his dad would bring home fast food every night. Roger Donovan always said he couldn’t cook and Clyde used to think that was only because he was comparing himself to his wife, Besty Donovan was a baking goddess and maybe that’s why he wasn’t eating.

Maybe he was subconsciously hunger striking his mother’s death. Then as if to confirm it, Clyde’s stomach growled and he thought about how good a bowl of her Meatball soup would be right about now…

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet ANOTHER drabble from my RP blog for Clyde Donovan gdiclyde.tumblr.com and I really don't have any words for it other than mine thinking it's kind of shabby~


End file.
